


Mutual Benefit

by 56leon



Series: Kirilisms' Tumblr Drabbles and Prompt Fills [1]
Category: Octopath Traveler (Video Game)
Genre: Cross-Posted on Tumblr, Drabble Collection, M/M, literally just a one-scene conversation, skim gay....maybe 2 percent gay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-05
Updated: 2018-08-05
Packaged: 2019-06-22 03:22:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15572634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/56leon/pseuds/56leon
Summary: Cyrus and Therion have a conversation concerning Therion'sdistantbehavior.Pre-Therius. Set directly after Therion's CH3.





	Mutual Benefit

**Author's Note:**

> Requester: Anonymous  
> Prompt: Therius, post Therion's CH3

Therion feels like an idiot, to say the least. Cordelia exceeds every expectation he’s ever had of her, and he’s a  _thief._  Preconceived notions and conclusion-jumping isn’t supposed to be in his job description.

And yet here he is, making every mistake a rookie knows not to.

He wonders who else he’s mistaken, how many people he’s created a persona around that doesn’t fit who they are. Ophilia? Probably. Primrose? Most likely. Cyrus?

“I see you’ve run away from us yet again.”

Apparently.

He glances up at the other from where he’s sitting underneath an apple tree, taking in the studious gaze he’s being given and returning it with a bored stare. Everyone else has left him alone, for the most part; they know that, whenever he checks in with his  _handlers,_  he wants some time to himself, and after the fight with Gareth - and the encounter with  _that_  man, whose name he doesn’t even want to think about at the moment - that applies doubly so. Cyrus, though, is different, always barging in, checking to see if he’s ‘quite all right’ (the scholar’s words, verbatim) or just watching to make sure the thief doesn’t do anything stupid.

Therion isn’t sure if it’s annoying or heartwarming, but he hopes for his own sake that it’s the former.

“I haven’t run away,” he replies coolly. “What would be the point, when you’re all so willing to fight my battles for me?” It’s all hot air, and they both know it, but he wants to see if Cyrus reacts.

The scholar takes the bait, almost too easily. “You speak as though you haven’t been plotting your dramatic escape from us for weeks now.” He sounds irritated, and if Therion imagines hard enough, he can see them sitting in a classroom, Cyrus clicking his tongue irritably as though he’s just interrupted a lecture. It’s amusing, to say the least. “The truth is that you’re afraid to pull us into your battles, but you refuse to understand that we put ourselves there.”

Therion is quiet for almost  _too_  long a moment, if the way Cyrus quirks an eyebrow is anything to go by. Finally, he responds. “I still don’t get  _why._  Is there something you want from me? Nobody just works for free.”

It’s  _almost_  the truth; Alfyn works for free, but he’s an idiot, so he doesn’t count. The others, though, they each have something to gain, and Therion doesn’t overlook the fact that they’re stronger in numbers. Just like the nobles who flock together for money and riches, they’re all adventurers who flock together for protection and strength. It’s common knowledge.

However, Cyrus looks surprisingly.....well,  _surprised_  at his question. “Is companionship not enough of an answer?” Therion wonders briefly if Cyrus ever thinks about fixing his brain-to-mouth filter, but decides against asking aloud. “We could be asking the same of you, mind. When Tressa was fighting against Gareth, and you.....”

He trails off, but Therion knows exactly what he’s talking about. The force of the blow to his skull was too strong for him to forget so easily. Alfyn patched him up soon after, and Tressa apologized ten times over for almost getting him killed, but it all ended well enough. Nobody had mentioned - at the time, at least - that it was Therion who had jumped out in front of her to catch the attack, rather than Gareth leaping at Therion himself, but he’s pretty sure that’s what Cyrus is talking about.

Cyrus’s eyes dart away from Therion for a moment, making him wonder if something else specifically is on his mind, but there’s no room in the conversation for him to ask before Cyrus is speaking again. “What I mean to say is, you’re not the type of person to sacrifice yourself for somebody you don’t care about.”

“All right.” It’s not an agreement, nor a dissent, just a statement. Regardless of what he says, though, Cyrus is right. “So you’re saying I care about you. Collectively.”  _The group,_  he wants to clarify further, but there’s no need so he holds his tongue. 

“Yes, but also too ignorant to tell us this yourself.” Cyrus pauses. “Or perhaps too scared.”

That was a nail on the head if Therion ever heard one. “You don’t say, professor.”

It’s sarcasm, but Cyrus takes it for face value. “I do. You want to accompany us, and treat us as comrades and friends, but you hide it behind a mask of disinterest. You feign that mutual benefit and sharp wit is all that drives you to continue traveling with us, and to keep yourself distant, you mistakenly persuade yourself that our feelings are the same.”

 _Gods,_  Cyrus can read him like any multitude of the books he’s devoured, and Therion almost hates it. Almost, because he can’t quite find it in himself to hate the one person who’s taken the initiative to analyze him so thoroughly. “And they say you’re  _obtuse,”_ he drawls instead, once again  _feigning_  the  _sharp wit_  that he knows Cyrus hates. “What are you going to do about it, though?”

Cyrus’s response surprises him more than anything else in the conversation has so far. “I’m going to convince you.” It’s a promise, judging by the conviction in Cyrus’s voice, one that won’t go unfulfilled if he has anything to say about it- and with his track record, Therion almost believes him over his own denial. “Every day, until our paths diverge and perhaps even beyond that, I promise that I will make you realize that this trust we share does  _not_  have to be built on business transactions.”

“Good luck.” Therion snorts, but his confidence is already waning. It’s such a  _Cyrus_ thing to do, to speak in a way that forces him to let down his guard and let the scholar trick him into thinking things he shouldn’t think.

Apparently, Cyrus takes that as an approval to begin.

“We’re not going to betray you.” His voice is warm but holds another quality that Therion is scared to think too much about. It’s one that leads to attachment, and he’s barely starting to recover from the  _first_ wound over his heart. With his life hanging as precariously as it is -  _he already lost once, he won’t be an idiot and promise a victory he doesn’t know he can achieve_  - he doesn’t want to be the cause of another.

Still, he replies. “I know.” Because he  _does_  know. They haven’t betrayed each other ever since their first step, and now isn’t the time for the tides to change. No matter how many times Therion rationalizes this blind trust in his comrades as something more sinister, he knows it isn’t the truth. They’ve all found a home in each other, and whether he likes it or not, that’s not a bond so easily broken.

“You can trust me.”

Cyrus reaches his hand out to pull him up, and for once.....Therion accepts it. His hand is almost soft, barely calloused from waving his staff around rather than a sword or spear, and Therion can feel every small cut and bruise that has yet to heal from the battle with Gareth. How many will there be, he wonders, after they’re done with Darius? _Enough to last a lifetime,_  he knows Cyrus would say if he asks him.  _But for you, each would be worth it._ He looks at Cyrus’s hand again, replaying everything the scholar has sacrificed - his time, his morals, his own health - to help Therion on his own journey, and wonders.

Even when he’s up on his own two feet, he almost doesn’t want to let go.

“I know."


End file.
